Hunkering Down

“Darling, the swimming pool engineer refuses to come in until we’ve put the horse away” is pretty much the apotheosis of middle class, first world problems. I found myself shouting this up the stairs to Natalie and immediately needed a sit down, a few moments to take a good long hard look at myself. The truth was that I have every sympathy for the poor pool engineer. He arrived, probably in a mood of optimism late in the afternoon, no doubt feeling that this would be his last call of the day, a simple ‘hivernage’(putting the pool into winter hibernation) and then home to a warming cognac or something. What he didn’t expect as he tried to get through the gate was an ill looking horse acting as bouncer and clearly taking a dislike to the poor man. Junior is very obviously unwell but there’s still enough residual hate in his veins for snorting maniacally at boiler-suited strangers who turn up unannounced. I tried to move him myself but he was having none of it from me and so we all just stood there awkwardly filling time, Junior very obviously not taking his eye off the increasingly nervous visitor. Natalie arrived and of course the old sod was immediately politeness itself, though as he was led away he would stop every few yards and turn his head back to the pool engineer just to let him know... To be fair Junior isn’t like this as often as he used to be. He is, like I say, quite unwell and we suspect (though actual tests cost hundreds of euros and can only be done in Le Mans or Paris) that he has cancer. Ultime, one minute crying out for him when he’s allowed to roam outside the paddock will then give him something of a beating on his return to the extent now that she has now been separated and is left to her own devices away from the poor old man.  Tallulah the oldest hen is suffering too and the ‘tonic’ drops are becoming less and less effective as she croaks quietly to herself, her crest lies limply across her head like a Bobby Charlton comb over and her feathers seem to get paler. Vespa, Natalie’s much loved cat, has been missing for two months now and Natalie is heartbroken. I had a text from Natalie late last night to say that there had been a power cut since early evening and that she and the boys were all huddled around candles in the front room. These are trying times for her indeed. She hates the winter anyway, the weather is foul and keeping her indoors but the sense that the new season very much marks the end of something is compounded by the fact that by spring there’s a very real possibility that we’ll be without our first horse, our first hen and our first cat and that is a very depressing thought. The boys are almost constantly ill at this time of year too passing germs between the three of them, then there’ll be a few days respite before another bout of gastro is picked up at school and the whole game starts again. I hardly help with her burden  by firstly being away nearly all the time at the moment and then just occasionally ringing up to moan about ineffective hotel wifi or delayed room service. Natalie is the eternal optimist, yes she’s got her plate full at the moment and things are difficult but she’s already planning her ‘spring garden’ for next year. Extra planning had had to be added since the goats escaped again last week and decimated her beloved rose bushes, a particularly stupid and wanton act considering that the goats’ only ally around the place is Natalie herself and one more bout of rose-related vandalism like that and they will very much be history. But she’s getting through it as she always does, humming tunes away to herself, never down for long, keeping us all going. I suspect also that she has plans in the animal department too. She tried to convince me last week that we needed another puppy to which even the boys were sceptical and I could tell her heart wasn’t really in it. We have a new neighbour you see who has a dog-breeding business, and although they live half a mile away, they can be heard. We’re not keen on the whole pedigree dog breedingindustry anyway, and although we’ve never actually seen them, around feeding time you can hear dozens of Highland Terriers all yapping excitedly for their dinner. Natalie stands on the terrasse listening to the cacophony, her head tilted like she’s trying to understand them. I fear that at some point over the winter she’ll attempt a night raid or at least a reconnaissance mission to check ontheir conditions. Also, a litter of kittens was spotted on the roadside a few days ago and she keeps popping back to the spot to see if they’re still around. I’ve mentioned before also that a lone elephant is kept in a field on the way to a train station I sometimes use. I wouldn’t put it past her, you know. She has previous. So as I put this blog into hibernation too for a few weeks, really there’s only so much moaning from the inside of insipid mid-range hotels even I am capable of, I can almost guarantee that on my return there will be new additions to be introduced, new cast members rescued from whatever pitiful fate they were enduring and bringing into the Moore household their own behavioural problems and needs, added chaos and burden. More ties to the place and increased responsibility and labour. I’m not sure we’d want it any other way. In the meantime, check out things here for book, festival or gig shenanigans